


Mad Spaghetti Amazon

by niteynyx



Series: Nitey's Commissions [15]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Mad Max Series (Movies), Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Breast Fucking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, F/M, Face-Fucking, Facials, Gun Violence, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Kissing, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Large Breasts, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Post-Apocalypse, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Science Fiction, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Western, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niteynyx/pseuds/niteynyx
Summary: The world went to shit decades ago, but in the year 2082 post-apocalyptic chaos and anarchy is all anyone has ever known. We follow the Kid as he escapes an inevitable death as a cartel slave in Old-Old Mexico and has a fate-changing encounter with Savannah Sharpes in the Lone Star region of the not-so Land of the Free. Anonymous commission.Inspired by Fallout, Mad Max and spaghetti westerns.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Nitey's Commissions [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896736
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kid escapes his life as a slave and reaches what was once the United States of America, now simply known as the Land of the Free. Naturally, the first people he meets are slavers.

“C’mon. Ain’t got time for no bullshit,” the overseer groused, cracking his whip in the air. The slaves ignored him, for they had long since grown accustomed to Legless Luis’ toothless threats. Their warden sat atop a platform on a swivelling chair, the sort of thing that was commonplace before the Sudden Catastrophe put an end to such simple luxuries; its age showed in the stains covering its leather surface as well as the shoddily patched holes, never mind the uneven surface where it had lost its comfortable stuffing.

Some people envied Legless Luis’ position, that he got to sit around all day in a comfortable chair, wave his whip around and scream. The Kid didn’t. From what he had observed in his time as a slave, Luis wasn’t comfortable in his chair at all, always wiggling around like he might be able to find just the right position for his legless arse to get cozy. Sometimes he started screeching about how he had lost his legs in this or that great battle. 

The Kid knew better. Legless Luis had never been a warrior, but rather a vagrant who had gone from community to community only keeping his belly full and his throat wet through the charity of those more fortunate than him, pushing himself along in his half-melted Fisher Price wagon with his rusty metal pipe as an oar. He called it his land boat. The Kid’s father was one of the kind souls who had taken pity on Luis. It had been a grave mistake.

That pity had turned to rage when Luis had broken into their pantry and fled in the night with most of their food. The slavers rolled through not long thereafter, before they had starved. The Kid often wished he and his family  _ had _ starved instead of being captured and put to work. Four years in he was the last one of his family alive. The cactus farms were not kind to their workers, nor were the cartels that ran them.

Luis was a coward, a traitor, an honorless cur. A thief. Nothing more, nothing less. In a way, the Kid pitied him, but he was sure he must have done far,  _ far _ worse than steal from his family to earn his position with the most notorious group on this side of Old-Old Mexico. The Avila-Cruz cartel was not known for supporting dead weight. But the Kid shook his head and dismissed such thoughts from his head. It wasn’t that such thinking was above him; thinking was his only real advantage in the world, and he had plenty of time to do it as he carefully picked faintly glowing fruits from the irradiated cacti. He minded the thorns.

There just wasn’t a point to dwelling on Legless Luis. He was a nobody, another asshole in a world full of them. And while he deserved justice, it would have to be incidental to what the Kid needed to focus his energy on: his escape. Things would be hard enough for him as they were. The Kid had a name, of course, but no one had used it in long enough that it now sounded foreign to his ears. They called him the Kid because with his short stature and shrimpy musculature, he looked like just that: a kid. If his brain failed him, he was going to be stuck here until the day he died, and statistically that would be sooner rather than later.

*****-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-*****

When the Kid really was a kid, he heard a lot of stories about the Avila-Cruz cartel. Everyone did. They were both a bogeyman and a fantasy; exotic but right around the corner. It wasn’t their incredible cruelty that made them so notorious so much as their alleged beauty. Almost every member of the Avila-Cruz cartel was supposed to be a stone cold vixen, a goddess of lust and war. That was true to an extent; the Kid still had vivid memories of staring at the girls who had rolled up to his family’s farm in their jeeps, all in varying states of dress, but almost all of them were hot as hell and fit, if not straight up buff.

Living in the cactus farm, he learned better. It was true most of the members were women with the men being few and far between, but their supposed beauty wasn’t universal. He had seen plenty who had lost their looks to violence and a surprising amount who had it faded by age, if not outright devoured. Really  _ old _ people were rare. He had never seen so many old people before becoming -- well, a slave. They were all over the ‘village’ that surrounded the farm, living their lives and making sure the free labour stayed put. If any of the old ladies were like his grandmother, he’d have an easy time slipping by them even if it came to a fight.

There was a reason this particular farm was known as the Retirement Home. But...

They might not have been pretty but some of them may as well have been bodybuilders, and they were all far crueler and far meaner than any of the younger women in the cartel. They were the only thing standing between the Kid and freedom. Well, that and a vast stretch of incredibly inhospitable wasteland. He’d been watching them for months now, memorizing when they changed their posts and what grannies were least likely to spot him sneaking out. Some of them started to sip hooch on the job or play games; others had vision impairments. The Kid had not chosen any of those old ladies. He had instead picked one who still had a libido and often dragged Legless Luis’ wheeled swivel chair over so she could have a little legless fun.

He shuddered, putting the mental image of Buff Bertha using Legless Luis as a human dildo from his mind. In his short life he had seen a lot of fucked up shit, but something about that really took the cake. He’d seen it so many times while getting ready for his escape; it was almost seared into his mind. It haunted him every time he closed his eyes, whether or not he went to sleep. Or-- maybe it didn’t bother him quite that much. Maybe he was just turning his mind away from what  _ could _ happen if he got caught.

It wasn’t like they were going to make him the next Legless Luis, left with a couple of stumps and an easy job with his most rigorous activity thereafter being Buff Bertha’s sex toy. No, the old ladies were far crueler than that.

He had stowed a few bottles of water and some non-perishable rations in the preceding weeks. Tomorrow would be his night; he’d sneak past the two mid-coitus, scale the wall and make for the Land of the Free. It’d be a hard trek, but he had it timed. The old lady taking roll call the morning after was renowned for _really not giving a shit_ _about roll call._ No one would notice his disappearance until he was long gone, and even then they’d probably assume he got up to piss in the middle of the night and blearily stumbled into one of the mutated cacti. Not a great way to go.

Freedom. He didn’t dare say the word any louder than a whisper, but damn if it didn’t have a great mouthfeel. 

*****-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-*****

Three days later, the Kid was rethinking this whole ‘freedom’ thing. Everything was going swell right up until… five minutes into his escape attempt, when Legless Luis spotted him. He’d never forget the look of baffled surprise on Luis’ face after he cracked him over the forehead with one of the water bottles, denting his skull and killing him instantly. He was pretty sure he had the same expression on his face. And Buff Bertha…

The Kid kept walking.

Well, after that it was too late to turn back. Even if he chose to and managed to hide any evidence that would point at him, the violence would force the cartel to crack down on the camp. They’d punish every slave for what one did, and the punishment wouldn’t be pretty. The words ‘ball pit decimation’’ got thrown around a lot and even though the Kid wasn’t sure what it was, he knew it was something awful. If they figured out who did it, then they’d just send a party to hunt him down. Everyone else would be spared whatever the fuck a ‘ball pit decimation’ was. He didn’t  _ really _ have any friends or family left in the camp, but that didn’t mean he wanted them all dead. Most of them were just like him: flat out unlucky.

The Kid kept walking.

Every part of his body was sore. His muscles ached. A few miles ago, he had to ditch a bag with half of his water and food to outrun a bull brushcock; he only had a quarter of what he initially packed left. Things were looking a little grim. The rocky hill he was about to hike over didn’t help his outlook on this whole venture. Would it have been better to live in the camp until a mishap or a granny’s wanton cruelty led to his death? He had to stop and seriously think about that for a minute. That sure life would, in fact, probably be better than his suicide march.

The Kid kept walking. The Kid kept walking, and walking, and walking. He had gotten used to the blisters on his feet. They didn’t really hurt anymore. He hadn’t quite gotten used to his dry throat or the hungry rumble in his belly yet. Having to piece out what little food and water he had left ensured he would before long. Things were looking bleak. Once he got over this hill, the Kid knew there would be another one waiting for him. How far could the Land of the Free be from Old-Old Mexico, really?

The Kid kept walking, one uncomfortable step after the other, until he was just short of cresting the hill. Far out in the distance he could see a sign. It was an old sign from the old world, so worn down that its damaged supports were clearly on their last legs. He stared at the sign, unable to believe his eyes.

“Now entering Texas,” he whispered. The cracked road running alongside it drew his eye, and it was only then that the Kid looked to the side and realized he didn’t need to walk up the hill at all. He laughed at himself, feeling almost delirious with joy. He had made it. Soon he would enter the Land of the Free, and all his woes would be left behind. “The Lone Star Region,” he read off the sign once his laughter subsided. Those words weren’t a part of the sign, at least not originally. Someone had spray painted them.

The Kid kept walking and walking and walking. He passed the sign and kept walking and walking and walking until all of a sudden, he was running. He was also screaming. It was a pretty natural reaction to massive trucks barreling out of seemingly nowhere on a clear path towards him. In Old-Old Mexico, vehicles unexpectedly pincering you meant danger. Maybe they were bandits. The last and only time this had happened to the Kid, they were slavers. What were the chances that he’d encounter  _ slavers _ in the Land of the Free so soon after escaping slavery?

The Kid kept running, but his legs were flagging and the trucks were gaining. He glanced over his shoulder one way and then the other, noting a couple of women and far more men sticking out of the trucks. They weren’t from the Avila-Cruz cartel. Maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe they were friends or some kind of welcome wagon to greet people like himself. Maybe he should stop.  _ Maybe,  _ the Kid considered,  _ I should pay attention to where I’m going _ .  _ Figure this out with my eyes forward. _

He looked forward. It was a good move. It would have been a better move ten or even twenty seconds earlier, when he would have had time to react to the otherwise pretty obvious rock on the ground that made him stumble, trip and fall, the rough terrain scraping him as he spilled out across it. The trucks rolled to a stop on either side of him before he even had a chance to pick himself up, much less dust himself off.

“Well, well,” one man drawled, climbing out of his truck and hopping down to the ground. The Kid saw his boots first, mismatched. As he managed to sit up, he saw more and more of his attire, all crude leather armor with metal plates and spikes fixed to it with no eye towards aesthetic or even practicality. “What have we got here? A payday?” He glanced back at his fellows and grinned as they sniggered, then crouched down by the Kid to look him in the eye. “How old are you, kiddo?”

Apparently, the chance he’d encounter slavers so soon after escaping slavery were pretty high, even in the Land of the Free. He bit down on the side of his cheek and started to sidle away. Now that he had a taste of freedom, he’d rather die than end up in another cactus farm or whatever equivalent they had on this side of the border. And he’d rather die running than on his ass, almost feeling ready to cry.

“Oh, he’s a real cutie,” another woman tittered, coming up behind him and blocking off his escape. He might not have a choice. Dying on his ass was still better than being enslaved again, he just had to wrack his mind to find a way to--

A gunshot cracked through the air and in the same instant, one of the truck’s windshields shattered. That drew everyone’s attention towards the source of the unexpected shot. The woman in the distance was too far away for the Kid to make out any of her facial features. Her  _ other _ features were impossible to miss; her tits had to be the biggest the Kid had ever seen, and he had seen quite a few enormous pairs amongst the cartel’s fiercest warriors. They strained the red flannel top she wore the same way her powerful, thick legs seemed to strain her jeans. Her polished cowboy boots gleamed in the midday sun. She kept her hunting rifle raised and aimed as she began to move towards the Kid and his would-be captors. Her dark brown leather hat almost matched her boots, bearing a proud Lone Star patch front and center.

Something about all of this felt off to the Kid. He glanced around, taking stock of the slavers. There were nine of them but only one cowgirl. They were all transfixed on her. On her tits, maybe? No-- that wasn’t it. It took a second to register. “None of you assholes have a gun?” he asked, looking between the man and woman over him.

“Shut up,” the man snapped, delivering a swift kick to the Kid that had him falling back over. The next bullet the cowgirl shot made the offending foot spray blood and made the man howl out in pain. The Kid figured that served the bastard right. What kind of slaver didn’t carry a gun? Seriously. Nine of them and not a single fucking gun. They deserved whatever they had coming from the cowgirl, who didn’t stop her advance. As the leader of the slavers screamed and hopped around, the rest of them began to panic. Most of them took cover.

She was his knight in shining armor.

“Alright, you godforsaken varmints,” she called out, shooting again and making one of the truck’s rear view mirrors explode to emphasize her address. “I’m sure I ain’t gotta tell none of you that we ain’t like your kind around here. Bet all your asses are from Kansland or, I ain’t fuckin’ know, Mistersippi.” There was nothing chivalric about her rustic drawl or her colorful diction. “Lone Star is still about freedom, you fuckin’ hear me?”

“What are you on about, you crazy bitch?” The slaver who replied to her quickly ducked back down behind the truck’s door, a bullet denting it seconds later. It was a close call, but not so close as to deter him from arguing with the woman who brought a gun. “Hiyooston is the slave capital of the damn country. Nobody believes that ‘Land of the Free’ shit no more. That American Dream bullshit is deader than-- fuck!” The next bullet  _ did _ pierce the door, though by the way the slaver started squealing the Kid was certain he would live.

Now the cowgirl was close enough that he could make out her features. She was as pretty as she was scary. It wasn’t just that she had a gun or that she had a deathly stare in her green eyes. Just the opposite of the latter, in fact. Her freckled face was growing flushed and probably not just on account of her undisguised gle, certainly not if the growing damp spots on the chest of her flannel top were any indication. “This ain’t Hi-Us-Ton, partner,” she grinned toothily. “Now, y’all can scram or y’all can dance with me a spell. I ain’t care one bit either way,” she lied.

She definitely wanted them to dance with her. A slaver popped up from one of the truck’s beds, taking quick aim over the cab of their vehicle with a rusty revolver in hand, something that made the Kid feel the slightest bit better about his predicament. At least he would have been enslaved by slavers with  _ a _ gun rather than no gun at all. Their shot surprised everyone, including the cowgirl, as it hit her…

Square in the hat, sending it fluttering off her head with a massive hole that rendered the once stylish and pristine piece of headwear damaged like just about everything else in the year 2082. “MotherFUCKER,” she all but roared as she flew into a sudden rage. Her next shot took the offending shooter in the chest and laid him out flat on his back in the truck’s bed. She didn’t bother reloading again, simply throwing her rifle to the ground and pounding the earth with her spurred boots as she charged at the nearest slaver like a bull, tackling them to the ground. 

As the female slaver who had cut him off ran to help her friend, the Kid rolled over and hastily got the fuck out of the sudden melee. The first hiding spot he saw was the other truck, not in it but under its carriage, well out of the way from any flying fists that might come his way. Or anything else that might come his way, for that matter. For several minutes, all he could hear was grunting and yelping and the occasional scream or cry. All he could see were the feet of the fighters and occasionally the faces of the defeated, if they fell close enough. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, the cowgirl was the last one standing. She was the only one with boots like that. When it was all said and done, she went about grabbing the slavers and hucking them into the back of the truck he wasn’t over.

The very last one seemed to be conscious and coherent. Rather than huck them, she set them on their feet. “Now, you go on and get. You tell all ‘em other slavers what happened here today. You tell all of ‘em the Lone Ranger ain’t got no time for no slaver’s bullshit. You hear?”

“Y-yeah.” They stumbled into the truck and a moment later the engine groaned to life, rumbling off.

“Hey now, kid,” the cowgirl called out. “Where are you after gettin’ to? I lost my fuckin’ hat saving you, so you best ain’t not have scrammed before sayin’ thank you, ma’am.”

The Kid, still free, began to squirm out to greet his savior.


	2. Savannah Sharpes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kid's saviour gets a little suspicious about the gun he seems to be packing in his trousers. Naturally, it turns out to be his cock.

“There we go,” the cowgirl grinned, crouching down to meet the Kid as he got out from under the truck and to his hands and knees. “Jeez, you’re a little feller, ain’t ya? How old are ya? You end up getting split up from your folks when those arseholes started chasing ya, honey?” With the slavers dispersed, the cowgirl took on a much kinder and sweeter tone for the Kid’s sake, clearly assuming that he was, well, a kid. That was irritating. He wanted to snap at her over it, even though she had saved him.

It was hard to make himself do it, probably because parts of him were getting hard now that he was up close to her. He couldn’t get his eyes off her immense rack; the cowgirl’s nipples were pushing against the flannel shirt like they might burst through, and those damp spots only got larger and larger. They really were the biggest breasts he had ever seen before, impossible to ignore and begging for  _ some _ kind of attention. The sort of attention that was incredibly inappropriate to give someone who had just saved your life. The sort of attention she certainly wouldn’t let him give her as a kid. The sort of attention, honestly, that he shouldn’t have been thinking about at all. Maybe the heat and exhaustion was getting to him.

“Kid? You shell shocked? You ain’t got nothing to worry about now. Savvy Sharpes got you. C’mere,” she said with a southern twang, reaching down to scoop her arms under the Kid’s and pluck him off the ground. She was stronger than she looked, and she didn’t look weak at all. He all but squawked at how she treated him; before he had a chance to make a more vocal objection, he was finding himself pressed into the bosom he had just been admiring. Her damp nipples were stiffer than they looked, but her tits were perfectly pillowy. She hugged him close, nothing but motherly assurances on her mind. “You’re gonna be fine,” she cooed as she began to pet his hair.

That snapped him out of his mammary driven stupor, at least. “I’m nineteen,” he muttered, making a token effort to push away from her. As nice as her chest pillows felt, he didn’t really want to get her leaking milk all over his sweaty, dirty mess of a shirt. He had known several enslaved women like her in the Avila-Cruz cactus farm; their huge racks were constantly full of milk, swelling with their arousal and leaking milk easier than one of the few docile cacti leaked water. They were prized human livestock for their rare but incredibly valuable mutation. Milk had so many uses. Not only did it quench thirst, it could be used to make incredibly valuable cheese, something few people in the desolate wastelands ever got to taste.

He had only tasted cheese once before. It was divine.

The Kid’s father used to tell him stories that his father used to tell him, stories of animals called goats and cows that common people like themselves used to keep. Animals they could milk that they could turn into cheese, if they cared to, and use as they please in ridiculously decadent ways. He once went into their farmhouse’s attic and came down with a ‘fondue set’ that people supposedly used to  _ melt cheese in _ so they could dip bread in it. Outrageous, ridiculous things. 

“Sure you are, honey,” ‘Savvy Sharpes’ cooed as she squeezed him all the tighter to her chest, unaware of her milky tits or his wandering thoughts. “You’re gonna be one day, and on that day you ain’t gonna have to lie to keep yourself safe, don’t you worry.” She ruffled his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp in a way that made him stop the ineffective shoving. “Now, you got any idea where your folks are? It’s dangerous out here for a kid, and I reckon I oughta make sure those fuckers ain’t just look for another poor fucker to go after.” She slid her hand out of his hair and right down his back, then slipped it around his front only to dive down between  _ her _ legs. “Yeah,” she murmured a bit more throatily, and it took the Kid several shocked moments to realize what the cowgirl was doing with her fingers, wetly schlicking away at herself with her fingers down her jeans.

This woman was completely and utterly fucked up. He renewed his shove to get out of her now one-armed hug, grunting. “No, I’m being honest.” It wasn’t just concern for his shirt anymore. For her to get off on violence like that and to be so openly masturbating right after it, she must have been a psychopath. A hot, freckled, fit as fuck psychopath but a psychopath nonetheless. “I’m nineteen. I’m just-- small. Thank you for rescuing me but-- let go.” There was no telling what would happen around here, and the only safe place for him to go now would be  _ away from her _ . His father used to tell him that the only thing more dangerous than a psycho in the desert was a friendly psycho, because the lines of reality and fantasy were far too blurred for them to be reasoned with.

She squeezed him even tighter, chuckling under her breath. “Sure you are,” she repeated merrily only to stop suddenly, her expression freezing over at something. “... You packin’?” she asked him just as abruptly, her wide green eyes narrowing in suspicion upon the Kid’s face. “You little fucker, are you packin’? This some trap to capture the Lone Ranger? It is, ain’t it. Be fuckin’ honest now, or I’ll break your legs and leave you to crawl back to your fuckers in Hiyooston,” she threatened.

“Lady,” the Kid growled back to her, feeling like a cornered animal. “If I had a gun, do you think I would have been in that situation to begin with? I just escaped from a--”

“Yeah, whatever,” Savvy grunted, suddenly rising from her crouched position. She lifted the kid easily with one hand at the same time, her fingers sliding down to grab hold of his ass and secure his position while he squawked his agitation once more. “Ain’t no point in asking, ‘cause if you  _ are _ a trap or bait or whatever the fuck it ain’t like you’re gonna tell me. Just gonna have to frisk your little ass.” She carried him right up to the cab of the truck the slavers left behind, swinging the door open and plopping him right down on the stained llama leather seat.

“I’m telling you, I don’t have a gun,” the Kid protested before he had a sudden epiphany at what was really going on here. It wasn’t that he had a weapon on him. She just assumed the worst of his erection, a boner that he himself had completely forgotten. It had been poking her belly just as her nipples were poking his chest and her breasts had been pillowing against it. “Wait--” he said, for some reason sure he could clear up this misunderstanding. Not twenty minutes ago, this woman had been his knight in shining armor.

Now she was aggressively patting him down from the body down, her graceful yet callused fingers sliding around his body to check for any suspicious lumps or bumps. “You ain’t got any of those implants, do you?” she muttered, before just grabbing the hem of his shirt and starting to yank it up, up, and up. “Lift your arms or I swear, I’m just gonna rip this off you.”

The Kid complied, face briefly hidden by his shirt as he complained at his would-be hero. “I don’t even know who the fuck the Lone Ranger is, lady. Honest. This is my first time in the Land of the Free.”

“Everyone knows who the Lone Ranger is. The most famous fuckin’ cowboy of all time and the protector of the Texas That Was,” Savvy grumbled as she tossed his shirt over her shoulder, taking a moment to pat over his body again. She hefted his arm and made a point of checking under them as well, her brows knitting as she took in the hair decorating his armpits. “Huh. How old you say you were, kid? Twelve or somethin’?”

Now the Kid was getting flustered. “Nineteen. Can you just--  _ mierda _ , I don’t have a gun. Where the fuck would I keep a gun?” He already knew where she was going to end up sooner than later. This really wasn’t what he expected to go down in the Land of the Free. 

“Ain’t you go cussin’. I speak the same Spanglish you do,  _ cono _ .” Everyone in Old-Old Mexico and the Lone Star Region did. She checked around his waist with a few more pats, then peeled away his makeshift rope belt and began to tug and yank at his pants. “Where I’m from, we take a kid over our knee for that kind of language and we ain’t let them up ‘till they’re howlin’ forgiveness from… oh, fuck. That’s a gun, alright.”

The Kid was a small man, sure, but his cock was perfectly average for a grown man. It looked downright gigantic between his scrawny legs, stiff as a tungsten rod from god after all the squeezing by the psycho cowgirl, nevermind her patting and careless exploration of his body in search for his weapon. “That’s not a fucking gun,” he retorted quickly, blushing in earnest now as he shot a hand down to grab his pants and try to yoink them back up. His other went to cover his exposed genitals before she tried to disarm him.

“Nope,” Savvy said with a low whistle, grabbing one of his wrists and then the other. She managed to secure them both in her hand and push them both against his belly, exposing him to her once more. “That is definitely a fuckin’ gun. Not even a fuckin’ pistol, that’s a right proper rifle you got there. Ain’t bad at all, little guy.” She squinted down at him -- all of him, cock, balls and hair included. “Maybe you ain’t a kid after all,” she admitted after a moment’s pause. “Nineteen or so, is that what you said?” she asked before wetting her full lips, near as pillowy as her rack albeit in a much different way.

“Y-yeah?” The Kid didn’t like the look in her face. She wasn’t flushed before, not even when she was openly masturbating with him squeezed in against her. He certainly didn’t like where this was going. While the Kid wasn’t a virgin, his father had imparted an important creed to his son and made sure he understood it many a year ago: never, ever stick your dick in crazy. Not unless it was life and death, and even then try not to because crazy had a good way of fucking you over in surprising ways.

When his father told him that, he meant because of kids. Procreation. Responsibilities. A psycho, milky-titted cowgirl was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but here his son was.

“Huh.” Savvy stared at his cock for a moment longer, then reached behind herself to fumble something out of the fanny pack he hadn’t noticed she wore before. He hadn’t noticed her belt buckle either; it was some of the finest silver the Kid had ever seen, enameled with the same Lone Star symbol she had worn on her late hat, god rest its leathery soul. While he didn’t recognize the black plastic cord she took out of the waistbag, he did understand its purpose well enough when she zipped it around his wrists like makeshift handcuffs. “I gotta make sure you ain’t one of those machiboy fuckers, packin’ real heat in their rifle. If you know what I mean,” she added with an eager grin, meeting the Kid’s brown eyes with her green ones.

He stared at her blankly. “The fuck is a machiboy?” Of course, there were more pressing matters at hand for both Savvy and the Kid. “I swear, that’s really just my--”

“Your cock. I hear ya, I hear ya, now shut the fuck up so I can make sure you pass muster,” Savvy drawled back, quickly unbuttoning her flannel shirt and opening it just enough that she could unhook the strangest bra the Kid had ever seen, all black lace. It was the kind of thing he only ever saw in the ancient Sares Catalogue that his local library held, a relic of a bygone age. Her small mountains spilled out, sheening with the shine of the milk already smeared across them, with more leaking out of her impressively engorged pink nipples. Those reminded him of something else he had seen in the library’s museum, one of its most precious exhibits kept in a glass case: the eraser at the bottom of a #2 pencil.

The Kid squirmed on the seat, lifting his ziptied wrists awkwardly as Savvy stared at his cock. For what felt like an eternity, she just touched herself, caressing her rack and tweaking her nipples between her fingers while she stared at it, the eager look in her eyes only mounting. He wanted to look away, to stare out at the landscape and wait for her to get this over with, but he couldn’t get his gaze away from her. Particularly not when she slid one hand down over her ripped abs and to her waist, unbuttoning her jeans and almost tearing them down over the thick curve of her ass. 

Her panties matched her strange bra, though when she pulled those down her thighs he was surprised to see she didn’t have so much as a hair on her soaked pussy. That was rare. There wasn’t even a hint of blonde stubble on her. She dropped both her bottoms down to the top of her boots, then crouched down, taking hold of his cock and staring at it for several moments with slightly parted lips.

“What a nice rifle,” she finally cooed, the eagerness on her face cut with a growing glee. “Ain’t nothing like what I would have expected to find around here, you know.” She slowly grinned, scooting in close to the Kid’s stiff cock, sliding her fingers down to his base and resting it along her nose as she peered up at his face from either side of it. Frankly, she looked a little ridiculous. “All the pieces I end up findin’ around here got somethin’ wrong with them. Never end up getting a proper barrel like this one,” she drawled. Leaving his cock against her face, she trailed her fingers down to his sack, running the pad of one finger over the wrinkled skin there. “And such a nice stock, too. Would ya look at that woodgrain,” she almost purred.

The Kid closed his eyes and whimpered, hoping she wasn’t the kind of psycho who really,  _ really  _ liked the taste of meat. He had heard a lot of horror stories about ‘cannivamps’, psycho women who wandered the desert looking for a good cock to suck and a nice--

The feeling of Savvy’s long tongue slowly and wetly laving its way over the Kid’s nuts killed that thought off quickly. He bit back on his groan and opened his eyes to look back down at the powerful blonde crouched before him, giving his low-hanging fruit a thorough tongue bath like a cat grooming another, careless for rigors of the road that he  _ would _ have thought would make such a lewd act difficult to contemplate, let alone do without reservation. Her licking continued unabated as her fingers found his shaft again, starting to slowly stroke the Kid’s cock in time with her tongue’s movements. It was already better than any sex he had ever had before.

It only got better when she parted her plush lips and took one of his balls into her mouth, sucking on it like a little piece of candied cactus. “Fuck,” he grunted out, already feeling ready to pop in the (literal) face of his would-be hero’s casual, impromptu violation. He finally looked to her eyes, finding them rapt on his face and  _ incredibly _ smug. Suddenly finding himself irritated, he resolved to make her work for it if she wanted him to cum and bit back all the harder at his groaning -- once again literally. He tasted a bit of blood on the inside of his cheek.

She switched between his balls, leaving one damp and exposed to the warm air while she worked on the other; her fingers were surprisingly gentle in how they handled his delicate equipment. That was a small surprise, considering how crass, rough and violent she had been since made her presence known with that first shot. The Kid curled his toes in his worn down shoes, kicking their heels back against the truck’s chassis; he’d do anything to distract himself from how fucking great her wet, warm mouth felt around his balls. With his wrists tied tight, there wasn’t much he could do in that regard. He started pinching his fingers, bending and stressing them. He also tried some negative reinforcement. “This-- this isn’t doing shit for me,  _ you big-titty bimbo _ ,” he managed to spit out coherently, albeit lapsing more into the Spanish part of Spanglish.

“Ain’t it?” Savvy asked, popping her lips off him audibly and leaning back, abandoning his balls for the moment as his cock poked up at her face. She grinned like a cat with a mouse, taking hold of his shaft’s base once more. “You know what we do with liars out here in Lone Star, kiddo?” she wondered as she lowered her lovely face once more, tapping his cock’s crown against her cheek rhythmically as she gazed up at him through her pale lashes. “C’mon, take a guess,” she teased. “Or does somethin’ got your cock caught between its--”

“I’m not a kid,” the Kid growled out quickly, not wanting her to finish that expression at all. His frustration was growing, but his good sense was fading with each passing moment. He was increasingly aware of just how much he wanted to get his hands on the cowgirl’s head and teach her a lesson with a thorough face-fucking, his balls clapping away at her chin until she ceded to him, and he was irrationally sure that she  _ would _ cede. What good sense he had left told him he couldn’t get away with that. He had few options to retaliate. 

One occurred to him. His good sense didn’t kick in. “Whatever you say, partner,” the cowgirl almost giggled, and in that moment he had quite enough of her shit. He stopped biting his cheek and before she had a moment to do aught else, his rifle fired what heat it was definitely packing. Savvy gasped as the first rope of his thick hot cum splashed on her fair face and then laughed at him, delighted. 

It was ridiculous for him to be trying to flex his pelvic muscles to aim where he fired, but the Kid was beyond thinking at this point. He tried and he failed, but sheer recoil -- or maybe just the way she moved her hand in surprise after getting her cumshot so abruptly -- made sure one of his several pent-up shots went exactly where he wanted it to. Her delighted laughter gave way to a small shriek when the Kid’s cum hit her eye, stinging it and leaving its slimy vestiges sticking to her eyelashes. “Fuck! You little fuckin’ asshole, it’s--!”

The Kid couldn’t hear her in his smug afterglow, having no regrets all in his post-nut clarity. No regrets for at least ten golden seconds that made whatever came next so very worth it. He saw something in the edge of his vision and looked up from her face, focusing in on it with a small frown. It took narrowing his eyes to make out what was coming their way. As she sputtered and cussed him out, he was already starting to panic. “Oh, fucking  _ mierda. _ ”

When the Kid was a child, his father told him so many stories about his grandfather’s day. The common man owning goats and cows and being able to make their own cheese was somehow less ridiculous than the common chicken. A feathered, grounded bird that was so small you could pick it up in one hand, but had lovely meat that tasted like ‘everything’. The females would lay a daily bounty of small eggs, which could be easily cooked in a single pan.

The only reason he believed cows were real was because the idea of cowboys and cowgirls persisted long after their extinction. The common chicken was supposedly the ancestor of bull and doe brushcocks, four-legged feathered terrors. Tall as an average sized man and almost triple the weight of one, brushcocks could be tamed and used to travel the desert quickly and far more quietly than any vehicle, provided one could afford to keep them fed and watered. If you couldn’t, they were not shy about turning on their riders and tearing them apart with their sharp beaks or sharper claws.

The wild ones didn’t give humans a chance to feed them, having learned that small groups of humans were often quick and easy meals who came with their own dessert. The one charging at them now had the Kid’s burlap sack stuck around its neck somehow, having apparently tracked him across the border. Both he and Savvy had their pants around their ankles; his wrists were restrained and she was practically blind with cum in her eye and a healthy dose of rage, unaware of the threat.

“Oh, fucking  _ mierda _ !” Cumming in her eye on accidental-purpose probably wasn’t worth it after all.


	3. Caught between a rock and perfect tits

“Oh, fucking  _mierda_ ! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The Kid started to scramble back into the truck’s cab as best he could with his hands zip tied before himself, which wasn’t particularly well. It really didn’t help that his pants were down around his knees. It was really just a lot of frantic backward butt scooting. He couldn’t take his eyes off the brushcock that was charging towards them. It was maybe twenty, thirty seconds away and once it reached them…

Well, the Kid would probably be safe in the cab if he kept his head down and covered his ears while the common chicken’s descendant picked Savvy apart with its claws and its cruel beak, cum-splattered face at all. He could crawl out when it left and rush away so long as he figured out where  _not_ to look to see whatever remained of his savior. However, the Kid’s quick mind quickly realized his plan had two big problems.

First, his hands were still bound with the plastic  _whatever the fuck_ zipties were. The black cord was tight enough that he couldn’t get it to loosen up as much as he tried to twist his wrists around. The skin beneath it was growing white, and the way Savvy had put them on him had the cord’s teeth digging into him; his attempts to escape them were futile and frankly, all they were doing was scratching up his wrists. 

It would be hard for him to do anything with his hands like, say,  _close the truck’s door._ That would be big insofar as escaping the brushcock went, but not impossible. Afterwards he would need to open it as well -- and what then? Did he just wander through the desert hoping he might bumble into someone who could cut him loose, or a sharp rock, or--

Really, it was just a no go. He wasn’t even sure he could get his pants back up with the zip ties still on his wrists. Sure, he could pull them up but the Avila-Cruz cartel didn’t care about making sure their cacti farm slaves had fitted pants. His pants (and really, calling them pants was  _generous_ ) were terribly loose and baggy, and without the dexterity to tie his rope belt around his waist again he’d be going through the desert with his pants around his ankles.

The second problem was a lot more simple.

“What the fuck’re you-- goddammit, this stings,” the psycho cowgirl slash self-declared Lone Ranger cried out with a voice full of irritation, rubbing desperately at her cum-splashed eye. She stumbled forward and propped herself against the side of the truck as she worked to clean the Kid’s jizz out of her peeper. He was sure that she accomplished nothing but smearing it deeper in there, making her problem all the worse. “What’re you cussin’ about? Did you fuckin’ cum in your own eye, too? Serves you fuckin’ right, fuck! Ugh. Goddamn. Shit!”

The Kid’s father wanted his kid to grow up to be a good man. The rarest kind of man in Old-Old Mexico’s desert, and he would wager the rarest kind of man in the Land of the Free as well after his short time over the border. He wanted the Kid to have a conscience, to treat others with respect and give them the benefit of the doubt instead of assuming the worst from them. At least most of the time.

“Always trust your gut, kiddo,” the Kid’s father used to say. Of course the Kid’s father trusted his gut when he took in Legless Luis and that didn’t exactly turn out well for anyone  _except_ Luis, nevermind the fact the Kid scrambled his brains just a few days ago in a sudden panic. Right now the Kid’s conscience told him he owed the so-called ‘Lone Ranger’ his life and he couldn’t just abandon her after that. His gut feeling agreed with that assessment. Without her, he was probably fucked whether or not he survived the brushcock’s coming rampage. With her, he stood a chance and was  _still_ likely to be fucked, considering she started sucking his cock within five minutes of meeting him. 

That last part wasn’t really his gut talking. Apparently, his cock and balls got a vote as well. The only thing voting against saving her was his brain -- she was a  _psycho._ She literally went down on his cock within five minutes of meeting him, and even now her tits were leaking milk, a sure indication of her mutation. Even though there had been a constant flow dribbling out of her nipples this entire time, her breasts didn’t seem to have gotten any smaller. It was fucking ridiculous.

Three to one was majority rules, though, and the brushcock wasn’t getting further away from the two sitting ducks it was charging. The Kid swallowed, then quickly squirmed around to get his legs under himself so he could wobble forth on his knees to the open door. “We’ve got a brushcock coming. You gotta get in, quick,” he shouted at Savvy.

“A fuckin’-- are you fuckin’ serious? Goddamn,” she kvetched, fumbling blindly in the wrong direction for the door into the truck’s cab. He must have cummed in both her eyes. His petty revenge really wasn’t worth it, but there was no point in thinking about that anymore. The sudden urgency to her movements had the mostly exposed blonde moving in  _very_ enticing ways that he certainly didn’t have the time to appreciate. Still, he was painfully aware of his cock getting stiff again in spite of their predicament. He didn’t even like blondes, but her  _tits…_

He needed to focus. “To your right, dumbass,” he shouted, thrusting his bound hands out towards the fumbling cowgirl. Her fingers gripped the edge before finding the Kid’s sweating digits, grabbing them tight and hauling on him as she pulled herself up. The brawny woman’s sheer strength took him by surprise when it really shouldn’t have, but he set himself and pulled against her tug to help get her into the truck. The climb wasn’t easy with her pants and lacy black panties around her knees, but the side step used to get in and out of the truck made it possible.

It was also broken, with one jagged end curling up. The sharp point caught on both her bottoms, and as she got into the truck the denim and lace loudly ripped, rendered nonfunctional for any practical purpose in a moment. Neither of them had the time to worry about that sort of thing, though. In a few more seconds the brushcock would be upon them. “The DOOR, DUMBASS!” the Kid shouted. The Lone Ranger reached blindly behind herself, managing by sheer luck to grab the door’s handle and slam it shut.

Seconds later, the entire vehicle gave a mighty lurch as the brushcock slammed into its side, squawking its fowl rage at being denied its meal while its heavy body dented the metal truck. It reared back, crowing and cucking at the sky before backing away from the vehicle and the pair’s emergency shelter. The Kid watched it, his heart pounding so fast that he was irrationally worried it might beat its way out of his chest altogether. “Oh, god,” he groaned as he slowly scooted back in the truck’s cab, resting his back against the driver’s side door.

Savvy didn’t get comfortable. By the way she was still groaning and rubbing desperately at her eyes, the Kid wasn’t sure she would ever get comfortable again. Another bit of wisdom from his father came to the Kid’s mind, however, whenever he whined or complained about feeling too sick to work or being too injured from the farm’s many hazards. “If you feel well enough to bitch, you’re feeling well enough to work,” his father said each time, never taking it seriously unless his kid was suffering in silence.

“Goddamn fuckin’ asshole cums in my eye,” the Lone Ranger complained, half-curling as she scrubbed and scrubbed away, picking up right where she left off as though the brushcock tackling the truck had never happened at all. She was going to be fine given some time or a little help in getting the cum off her peepers and out of her pale blonde lashes. “Lordy, this fuckin’ burns!” The Kid took a moment to just breathe, letting his panic and adrenaline fade away with each steady exhale. When he felt calm, he took a look around the truck and quickly found a waterskin and a canteen hanging off the rearview mirror -- or at least where the mirror had been, the glass long since removed for whatever reason.

“Hold on,” the Kid muttered, doing his best to block out the sheer senseless noise all her whining and cussing made as he got the waterskin down and clumsily uncapped it. He sniffed its lip and was immediately glad he had. Whatever alcohol it held was strong enough that its stench hit him like a wall and made him flinch back. If he had splashed  _that_ in her eye, she would probably kill him by  _accident_ in her flailing, spasming and screaming. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to dodge any flying fists or limbs in the cab’s tight confines. Feeling light-headed from just his brief exposure to the fumes, he capped the waterskin and reached for the canteen instead.

“The fuck are you goin’? What’s goin’ on?” Savvy grumbled piteously, the picture of a lion with a thorn in her paw. The Kid’s father liked to tell him that story, though he was pretty sure lions were fabricated bullshit. They would have to be enormous if they needed a mouse to pick a thorn out from its paws. Those fuckers were almost worse than brushcocks. Savvy reached out with her paw, blindly patting at his body. “Kiddo?”

“Just give me a second. Keep your fucking hams to yourself,” he grumbled, pushing back at her hand but not before it got a touch of his cock. “Seriously, fuck off for a second. I think I’ve got some water, just-- twist around and lay back. Stop rubbing your eyes and let me splash some of this in it. Alright?” She was too busy interchangeably chortling her amusement at his hardness and hissing in her continued discomfort to hear his words, apparently, so he raised his voice. “Alright? You got that? Hold your eyes open for me.”

“You’re a -- fuckin’ -- horny bastard, ain’tcha?” Savvy grinned before wincing. She held her hands tight to her eyes for a moment, then twisted about to do as she was told, grunting in irritation as her wiggling split what remained of her pants and panties right down the center. She was too tall to really lay the way that the Kid suggested and ended up bracing her boots against the window, her blonde head pressed up against his thigh with her pate just shy of his hard cock and balls, still damp from her tongue. She looked absolutely ridiculous with her immense tits spilling out as best they could,  _still_ leaking milk. Absolutely ridiculous and still incredibly fuckable, even when she spread her reddened eyes wide open for him.

The Kid got the canteen open and lifted it to his lips, taking a sip just to be sure the odorless liquid inside was water. Once he was sure, he shifted around and carefully went to splash the water on the Lone Ranger’s cum-sullied eyes. He encountered an immediate problem, naturally. His wrists were still bound at the wrist; it wasn’t like the psycho cowgirl was in any position to cut him loose. Carefully splashing water required dexterity, and he sure as shit didn’t have any in that moment. Just as naturally, Savvy started squirming just as the Kid started pouring, her head pushing his leg just enough to jostle his bottle.

He ended up more or less pouring everything in the half-full canteen over her face, washing not just the cum out of her eyes but off her white spattered face as well. She gasped in surprise and blinked wildly at him, briefly shocked by the deluge. For a moment, she didn’t look like the wild frontierswoman she so clearly was, just a woman caught off guard by a rude spill. “Sorry,” the Kid mumbled, setting the canteen aside as she blinked and blinked her eyes clear of spunk.

“Give a girl a warnin’, fucker,” Savvy muttered back. “Whether ‘er not you’re tossin’ water or shootin’ your pecker off.” The Kid found himself flushing just a bit red, yet after a moment’s thought he felt silly for getting embarrassed.

“Maybe give a guy a warning before you decide to start sucking their cock,” the Kid grouched right back, sticking his hands out without a direct word towards them, though his silent request was clear enough. Savvy rolled her eyes, then reached up to the zipties, grabbed them and simply ripped them off with a brief but impressive twist of her wrists. Her grip strength was crazy, and he was  _immediately_ glad for how gentle she was with handling his cock.

“Ain’t ever met a fucker who complained about havin’ his pecker in my mouth, much less his balls. ‘Sides,” she added after a beat, tilting her head back against the seat so she could give a direct look to the cock and balls in question, inches away from the mouth that had gotten the unit off not so long ago. “Looks like somebody enjoyed themselves. Ain’t that right?” she cooed at his cock, like it was a cute child.

“T-that’s… no! Shut up, you fucking titty monster,” the Kid barked back, his fluster replaced with ire. She blinked up at him repeatedly, then burst into raucous laughter, grinning ear to ear at him. Her hands lowered and then slid down her sides, cupping the side of either of her enormous breasts and starting to push them together.

“A fuckin’ titty monster, huh?” Savvy asked, squeezing her two massive mammaries together, her hands pushing up just enough for her to pinch at her nipples, already leaking a fresh swell of milk. Her grin tapered down and she affected a look of faux shock, increasingly coy. “Can’t say I see a titty monster in here, but I got a couple bottles for baby if he wants ‘em… and if it makes him stop cryin’, he can stick his cock between ‘em.” Her grin quickly returned. “What do you say? You wanna fuck my tits, kid?”

The Lone Ranger may have saved the Kid from certain death, and sure, she gave him a  _great_ orgasm unlike any other he had ever had. She was probably the hottest woman he would ever see naked, let alone fuck. Now she was offering to let him fuck her cleavage. They had met less than an hour earlier. Despite all those factors, she had also insulted his dignity time and time again. There was no way he could fuck her tits in good conscience.

“I, uh-- yeah. Sure.” His cock won the vote again, go figure. A moment later he was working the rest of his pants off his legs, dropping them to the floor of the truck hastily. Savvy grinned gleefully as she watched him, and when he went to crawl over her she leaned up to try and catch the tip of his cock in her mouth, only managing to graze it. The Kid grunted his surprise and gave her a look over his shoulder, then finished getting to her stomach. It took him a moment to turn around on top of her, but it was worth the glorious view he had of her when he was straddling her chest. The Lone Ranger’s wonderfully lush tits formed the most enticing cleavage he had ever seen, and with the way she was pressing them together, both of her nipples were leaking into that perfect, fuckable valley.

“C’mon,” Savvy all but purred, her grin overshadowed by the sheer wanton hunger in her eyes. “You gonna keep me waitin’, hot stuff? Or are you gonna stick your big, strong dick between my tits and give them the fuckin’ they deserve for rescuin’ you? If you ain’t get started soon, I’ll do it myself,” she threatened, her voice gone low and throaty.

The Kid didn’t give her a chance to make good on that threat, ramming his cock right in between Savvy’s Texan tits and starting to thrust away. “Fuck,” he groaned immediately as her breathing hitched with excitement. They really were perfect, like two warm and overstuffed pillows. Not even the kind of shitty pillows he had used his entire life, but the kind he once saw on a merchant’s wagon when he was much younger, perfect and plush but way out of his league (monetarily speaking). Plus, the milk made for just the  _perfect_ amount of lube.

The Kid was falling in love. Not with ‘Savvy Sharpes’ the Lone Ranger, she was absolutely insane and way too dangerous for him to stay around. But her tits? Yeah, he was head over heels for her amazing tits. “Like some kind of titty angel,” he mumbled to himself without a second thought about the words, let alone a first one, but he was far too absorbed in titty heaven to care.

At least until Savvy laughed at it. “First a titty monster and now a fuckin’ titty  _angel_ ? Make up your mind, kid, and get to work. Ain’t you fuckin’ my tits yet?” she jeered at him, grinning widely up at him. “Feelin’ something of a mighty breeze in there, but I can’t say I’m feelin’ any cock,” she admitted, wiggling her brows. “And if you ain’t get started soon--”

That immediately killed off the steady rhythm the Kid had set for himself out of sheer confusion. “What’re you talking about? I’m-- I’m literally--” the Kid blurted and stammered out, flustered, but the psycho cowgirl was already starting to laugh at him, howling and whooping in glee that couldn’t quite manage to kill his boner.

“A little pecker like that ain’t nothin’ between my tits, honey. You ain’t fuckin’ ‘em at all,” Savvy teased shamelessly, gripping her fingers into her ample titflesh and beginning to work them back and forth. She squeezed him between her tits far tighter than any pussy he ever had, working them up and down around his length with a much greater intensity than he could have managed.

“Y-you’re full of shit,” the Kid grunted, starting to  _try_ and thrust against her, but her titfuck was frankly overwhelming him, making it impossible to fuck her cleavage, much less escape her peerless shoulder boulders. “F-fuck.”

“Uh-huh,” Savvy drawled, plainly unimpressed with the strong face the Kid tried to keep up as she worked him, the difference in her experience and his sexual prowess made plain and clear. “You ain’t gotta hold back, honey. Y’know that? In fact,” she said with a sudden gleam to her eyes, her fingers suddenly managing to squeeze him all the tighter, tight enough that the Kid was sure that his resultant groan was really just a death rattle as he died and went to heaven. “Cum for me, kiddo. C’mon.”

“F-fucking hell,” he groaned out, helpless in the face of the monstrous titty angel cowgirl, sinking his fingers hard into her breasts as his cock began to spurt its load, joining the little rivulets of milk between her mammaries. Her laughter was less pointed after that, her fingers releasing her chest pillows and letting gravity take over their positioning. It was sheer delight as her fingers scooped between her cleavage, smearing together the Kid’s cum and her milk. He watched her, dumbfounded in post orgasmic bliss until a tapping at the window drew his attention from the sight of the blonde eating their mutual mess.

The brushcock tapped its beak at the window again. Apparently, it hadn’t fucked off after tackling the car. Apparently, it had been watching them. And apparently, it was ready to get back to the business at hand. Savvy was too absorbed with eating cummy milk to look up and see what the Kid was gaping at, at least until he finally voiced his concern.

“ _Mierda_ !”


	4. Once Again, With Feeling

“Oh,  _ mierda _ ,” the Kid panted out. These last few days, he was cussing a  _ lot _ . Hell, he was cussing what felt like every other hour, an always breathless litany of  _ mierda _ this and fuck that.

There was a time before all of this when he was a polite boy with a polite tongue, when he wouldn’t cuss in Spanglish at all. The Kid only had a few memories of his mother. She died when he was young, but impressed upon him a need for propriety. He never met any members of her family, but she made sure the (far younger) Kid understood that if he cussed and bitched like some of the farmers they knew, he would be kidnapped on  _ dia de los Muertos _ , the Day of the Dead.

Not by any living man or woman or raider piece of shit, but by his long dead maternal  _ abuela _ who loathed such foul language. “She won’t stand for the shame of it,” the Kid’s mother always said with a tut, usually while she was baking the day’s bread. Then she would turn towards him and lift her rolling pin, brandishing it like a weapon and pointing one of its handles at him like a dire threat. “And neither will I.”

He missed her more than he missed his father. She was always strict but always fair. That was long before the farm was overrun and he was enslaved. He cussed a lot that day, and he cussed a lot more while he worked on the farm, all of it deliberate, hoping that his  _ abuela _ would take notice. After all, if she rose from her grave and kidnapped him, she would just be freeing him from captivity. He could cross the bridge of apology any time after that. The Day of the Dead came and went. All of the usual strangeness that happened during the Day took place, the camp battening down its hatches throughout.

No zombie abuela, though. Now he just cussed for the fuck of it, because it tended to be the best way to highlight just how shitty his situation was since he had first met Savvy Sharpes two… maybe three days ago? Time was blurring together. If he was going to be fair about it, everything had been shitty since he fled the cartel’s work camp, and Savannah was his one bright light since then. She saved him from bandits and had already sucked his dick several times over. On top of that, she was a true babe, a genuine titty angel, practically a perfect woman.

But it was hard to look past the fact she was fucking insane.

“Oh, quit yer whinin’,” the Amazonian blonde drawled, planting her hands on her curvaceous hips and surveying the horizon. “All that belly achin’ ain’t gonna do nothing for nobody, you know.” Though her exposed skin sheened with sweat, she barely seemed winded by the mad dash the two just went. That struck the Kid as wildly unfair, and he was sure they didn’t need to dash at all. Even though they hadn’t seen anyone since the shootout with the bandits, Savvy didn’t want to risk being near a road for very long.

So when they reached the next road, they ran across it and scrambled up the steep hill on the other side before half-running, half-sliding down its other side. They found themselves on another road immediately and quickly repeated the process, finding themselves in the wilderness once more. Finding themselves here. “‘Sides,” Savvy began to point out, looking over her shoulder at the Kid with a broad grin, all pearly teeth. “Everyone knows a brushcock ain’t about to cross the road, baby boy. We’re in the clear. It’s all gonna be smooth sailin’ from here back to civilization, lemme tell ya.”

The Kid closed his eyes. The monstrous rooster had been hounding them day and night, always showing up when they least expected it. He hoped she was right. They couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. They had lucked out finding water and food and for rest while on the run, but never enough for their next meal. It was a wonder that they had found shelter for any sleep at all. “Yeah, okay,” he groaned out, leaning down to rub his legs through his pants.

Neither of them had managed to replace their lost clothes. The Kid glanced up as Savvy let out a feminine little grunt, stretching her body out. For him, that meant he had a worsening sunburn on his bare torso. On the other hand, Savvy had been doing all of their running without any sort of pants. Which, well, he couldn’t complain about. Enough had happened since she lost them that he couldn’t remember if she had been wearing panties in the first place. So far, she hadn’t made any effort to cover herself up.

For one reason or another, Savannah’s ass was pristine. It was like the sun’s harsh rays refused to besmirch something so fine with the simple reality of running around bare ass naked in the Lone Star region’s harsh heat. The Kid’s gaze dipped down lower. He watched her without a hint of shame as she rose up on the toes of her boots, showing off the clean, well-defined lines of her smooth legs, with thighs that seemed lean at a glance… but only in proportion to her incredible body. They were thick enough that if she were to ever lock her legs around his head, the Kid was certain she would pop his head like a bean pod.

He already knew she didn’t have a single hair on her pink pussy and that she was almost constantly wet, leaking like the faulty fire hydrant that served as his family’s farm back home. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Provided she gave him the dignity of doing it head-on and burying his face in her cunt, anyway, which at least seemed more likely than her pouncing on the back of his neck out of nowhere.

Now that he was thinking about it, death by thigh squeeze seemed pretty likely if he ever went down on her. The Kid made a mental note to avoid such a perilous situation. He liked having a head on his shoulders; it was far better than any alternative. He lifted his brown eyes back to the glorious perfection of her ass. If there was ever a time where Savvy Sharpes wasn’t a practical superwoman, her ass must have been  _ enormous _ , and it must have jiggled with even the slightest movement.

But she was a superwoman, wasn’t she? Her ass was toned into the perfect firm bubble for her size and musculature, with  _ juuuust _ enough fat coated over it that she retained a jiggle with each step. The Kid wanted to slap it, feel his fingers sink into it. He wanted to hear the loud crack his skin would make on hers when he spanked her, and he wanted to know what it would feel like to grab the halves of her ass, spread it wide and stick his cock in her asshole. 

He wasn’t a virgin, not by any stretch, but anal had thus far been his one forbidden fruit. 

But the Kid paused and closed his eyes, reminding himself once more that Savvy Sharpes was a psycho. He thought back to conversations with his older brother. Before leaving the farm, he had stressed to the Kid time and time again: “Don’t go stickin’ your dick in crazy, man. It ain’t  **ever** worth it. It feels great, but man, crazy is just-- too fuckin’ good, kid, trust me. You don’t want it changing yourself.” he assured him, speaking from experience, and probably because their father drilled it into him, too. When he left the family, it wasn’t to seek fortune. It was to chase the psycho he stuck his dick in two weeks prior.

He lost a few cousins the same way, both male and female. The Kid told himself the blowjobs and titjobs were fine, but they  _ had _ to be the line. They weren’t really sticking his dick in crazy, except in the most literal sense.

The Kid was, of course, lying to himself. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled it evenly, calming himself and willing his stiffening cock to chill the fuck out. Then he slowly opened his eyes, at peace with the universe once more. At least until, pretty much immediately after opening them, he saw Savvy bending to touch her toes, her legs perfectly straight. 

It thrust out the all too tempting target her ass presented, the two halves of her Texas peach spreading naturally and giving him a clear view of her asshole, tiny and almost comically dainty compared to the rest of her. Just below, he had a perfect rear view of her wet pussy, little rivulets running down her thighs like tributaries branching out of a river’s delta. 

It brought to mind something else the Kid’s mother used to drill into him, the so-called ‘Pearly Gates’ that would one day swing open and welcome him to heaven. He could see this psycho bitch’s holes being heaven. “Fuck,” the Kid whispered to himself, his feet already in motion before he thought about what he was doing, his body winning out over his heart and mind. Savvy clearly wanted cock. She clearly  _ always _ wanted cock, with the way she acted. And with the way she continually asserted herself on him, well, she clearly wouldn’t give a shit if he got assertive. Right?

Sticking his cock in her ass couldn’t possibly count as putting his dick in crazy. That had to be reserved for her cunt. That just made sense to the Kid, in the way anything could make sense to anybody when they wanted to lie to themselves badly enough.

She was rolling her hips and arching her back as he got within spitting distance of her, working out kinks in her lower back. “Hey, so-- I ain’t gonna lie,” she said without looking up. “Lone Ranger ‘er not, all this runnin’ and fleein’ and shit, I’m right proper lost,” she admitted candidly, starting to lift her head. The Kid lifted his hand. “And I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue where we are or what side of the fuckin’ border--”

The Kid’s wrist came cracking down, spanking Savvy’s wondrous ass with a noise like a fleshy thunderclap, only heightened by the wet sheen of sweat on his skin and hers. The jiggle was far better than he imagined. She didn’t react at all, going quiet. Emboldened and now grinning, he dug his fingers into it and then raised his other hand, making sure the other cheek of her ass didn’t go neglected. Once again, he was treated to the most satisfying noise he had heard in a long time and a wonderful little jiggle.

Digging his fingers into both halves of her Texas peach now, he spread her wider and stared down at her asshole. Comparatively dainty to the rest of her body, to the point where it was almost cute. It was already slightly open, as though inviting the Kid to do whatever he wanted to it with whatever part of his body. His tongue, his fingers, his cock. Anything was game now.

But the Kid paused short of doing anything, feeling something was off -- that he was in a distinct amount of danger. Slowly, he looked one way over his shoulder, and then the other, flexing his fingers into Savvy’s bottom. The brushcock wasn’t standing at the top of the hill behind them, nor was it charging from either their left or right. His brows creased, and he looked forward. It was just rocks, cacti and not a whole lot else as far as he could see. Seeing all of that didn’t reassure him, it just made him progressively more certain he was missing something.

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Savannah asked gently, her southern twang all but disappeared. Every single syllable that left her pouty lips was precisely enunciated, and for the third time that day the Kid was reminded of his mother, and the voice she used to speak in when her children truly fucked up. When she was past the point of yelling and could only show the true extent of her anger through cold ire.

He quickly realized what was off about the situation. Savvy went perfectly still the moment he slapped her ass, and not because she was a horny psycho bitch eagerly awaiting the first thrust of his cock. 

The Kid had fucked up. Big time. But...

“Seriously,” Savvy continued after a moment, slowly lifting out of her bend and turning her head to look down and over her shoulder at him. “What the fuck are you doing?” she asked him -- no, she  _ demanded _ from him, violence threatened in her green eyes and in the twitch of her freckled cheeks. She glared down at him, her brows hiking up high on her forehead as she waited.

The Kid could only stare back at her, his mouth dry. He felt like he should  _ probably _ take his hands off her proud tush, but at the same time -- now that he had his horny little hands on it, he couldn’t imagine letting go. Knowing he should say something, the Kid cleared his throat and prepared to say something that would calm the provoked psycho and diffuse the tense situation. Something suave, something that would take advantage of how horny she was. Something that would give them both what they wanted. Something like…

“I want to stick my dick in your ass,” the Kid blurted out, his body moving before his mind could once more. He released the halves of her ass and brought back both of his hands, cracking them down in another drum slap across her thick bottom. He dug his fingers right back into her pliant flesh, feeling the muscle under her jiggling ass as he did so. “Right here. Right now.”

The Lone Ranger’s glare softened. Clearly, her inner slut was about to emerge. She was probably going to insist he let her suck his cock first. Maginamous ragamuffin that he was, the Kid would of course let her slobber all over his schlong while dutifully keeping watch, keeping her safe like the big, strong man he-- well, wasn’t. A crooked smile took over Savvy’s lips, only lending further credence to the Kid’s interpretation of her expressions, at least in his mind. He grinned back, horny and eager.

It was officially time for the Kid to get his first proper taste of a woman’s ass.

“You hit your goddamn head on the way down the hill or something?” Savvy laughed in his face. Not a giggle and not a chuckle, but a full laugh. She stepped away from him and turned to face him, the movement of her hips depriving him of his grip on her lush ass, tossing her head back as she let her raucous amusement loose. “You want to  _ stick your dick in my ass _ ?” she repeated, looking down at the Kid with a slim smirk that slowly grew broader and broader.

The Kid blinked, brought crashing back down to reality by her laughter. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. All the while, Savvy’s smirk became progressively more grandiose until she was grinning at him, her brows lofted high on her forehead. “I--” the Kid began, before swallowing and clearing his throat. “Yeah,” he affirmed. Maybe this was a test. Maybe Savvy didn’t quite shock him back into reality after all. “Yeah, exactly. I want to put my dick in your ass.”

Once again, the blonde ranger guffawed, bending forward and slapping at her thigh. “You can’t put your fucking dick in my ass, kiddo. If you want to get in my  _ tight little hole _ ,” she hummed lewdly, leaning down until her eyes were about level with the Kid’s. “Your dick is gonna have to be a lot, lot bigger. Gonna need a proper ass breaker,” she went on, the bridge of her nose wrinkling with wicked amusement. “Not that fuckin’ shrimpy twig.”

“A shrimpy twig?” the Kid immediately bristled, taking a step forward and putting the two of them practically face to face. “ _ Perra _ , you called it a rifle,” he told her, his previous frustration leaping over his infatuation with her ass. “And you sure as fuck haven’t been complaining whenever you’ve got it in your mouth.”

“Yeah,” Savvy replied without a moment of hesitation, flaring her green eyes wide with wild glee. “You know why? ‘Cause kiddo, you’re the only cock around for  _ miles _ ,” she jeered cheerfully, before reaching out and grabbing him by his shoulders. He grunted and went to push her off, but he didn’t account for just how strong Savvy’s amazonian body was; there was far more to the woman than her babe-like proportions. She squeezed his shoulders hard enough that he feared she would break them.

“And if you can’t behave, I’m just gonna need--” Savvy rambled, ignoring his kicking feet as she lifted him into the air, swinging him around like he really was a child and not a pint-sized adult. “--to cover up everythin’ making you such a distracted fuckin’ little horndog, buster.” She pushed him up against a nearby boulder and shifted how she held him, pinning him against the hard rock with her forearm against his chest. Her other hand slid down his body.

“What the fuck’re you--” hissed the Kid, kicking and pushing at her, but finding Savvy was as solid as she was strong, not flinching away from any of his strikes. She hummed out a shush to him and giggled her mounting, clearly capricious amusement at his struggles. “Get off me, you fucking  _ perra _ psycho titty sow,” he bit out, only to have Savvy quickly shut him up. Not with sudden violence, but sudden softness, enveloping his thin lips with her pillowy ones. When he gasped his surprise, she leapt to take advantage of it, sticking her tongue right in his mouth. 

If the Kid still had any notions or fantasies about being a big, strong man in that moment, Savvy certainly did her part to emasculate him on the spot, asserting total control over his body. She pinned his tongue with hers just like she was pinning his body. The taste of her tongue on his was surprising, to say the least. He closed his eyes, focusing on it.

Sweet, almost like candy, and not the garbage candy people made back home in Old-Old Mexico. Like  _ real _ candy. The shit people killed each other over in the wastelands, back there and probably in the Lone Star region too. The delicious, processed stuff that became rarer and rarer with each passing day, left over from before the world truly went to shit. He had only had one piece of that candy before, filched from a merchant’s stall when no one was looking. 

_ Fresa _ , its red wrapper read, dotted gold with a green top like some kind of freak cactus. He later learned the other Spanglish word for it -- strawberry. Savannah Sharpes’ mouth tasted like his memory of strawberry candy. He groaned into her open mouth, barely aware of what her other hand was doing to him until he could feel the warm wind lick his cock and balls. The amazonian blonde worked and jerked his pants down until they simply slid down the rest of his, to his ankles.

She ended the kiss, and as the Kid opened his eyes, she opened hers too. Savvy’s face must have been as flushed as his was, and there was a lewd glaze to her eyes. “Like I said,” she purred, resting her brow against his for a moment and licking her lips. “You’re the only cock around for fuckin’ miles, kid.” Her fingers curled around his hard cock, giving it a casual stroke. “And ain’t no way this small pecker is goin’ anywhere near my asshole. No, sir. Best get that thought out of your little peanut brain, you hear?”

“Y-yeah,” the Kid gasped out automatically, his next words proving to be an immediate contradiction. “Wait, no-- you’re fucking--  _ mierda, _ you’re so full of shit, if you just wanted cock, you wouldn’t have shot all those--”

She shut him up again with another kiss, this one far harder, pressing his head back against the rock as she snogged him. It served its purpose in distracting him. Their tongue play was far briefer this time, when Savvy chose instead to begin nibbling on his bottom lip, continuing to stroke his eager dick with her surprisingly soft hand. His sunburnt back felt like hell, but  _ fuck _ if the handjob didn’t feel worth it. How long had it been since he last got off? Not that long at all, but it felt much longer than it actually was. “C’mon,” Savvy whispered, barely moving her lips off of his. She shifted her position again, rubbing her titanic titties up against his body like a cat in heat, her hand working faster and faster at his cock. “C’mon and cum for me, kiddo. Gimme all that hot baby batter so I ain’t feel like a total bitch for doin’ what I gotta do here. Say my name while ya do. C’mon. Savvy, Savvy, Savvy.”

That struck the Kid as something he should press her on, but it was neither the time nor place for that. He was already on the edge, and nothing could stop him from groaning out her name. “S-Savvy,” he whispered back, right as his mind went blank and what she once referred to as a ‘right proper gun’ fired off its sticky load. For the past two days, she hadn’t bothered to button up her flannel shirt, leaving it hanging open. Each rope he shot splattered over her abs until her belly looked like a strange modern art exhibit, covered in senseless white paint.

“Attaboy,” Savvy giggled, continuing to pump the Kid until he stopped firing off his jizz. Her hand uncurled from his dick and ran smoothly over his stomach. “Maybe it ain’t such a bad pecker, one way or the other, but it still ain’t goin’ in my ass. Now, you hold right still for me,” she implored him, right before sucker punching him in the gut and knocking all the wind out of the Kid in one surprised gasp, ruining his afterglow. He was dimly aware of her crouching down while he fought to regain his breath and senses, and then her moving his feet.

A second passed, and then Savvy moved away from him, laughing. “There we fuckin’ go,” she said jubilantly. The Kid blinked, regaining his senses, and slowly pushed himself off the boulder. It took him a few more seconds to make sense of the scene before him. Savannah was hopping from one leg to the other, trying fitfully to put on a pair of pants that were far, far too slim for her thunderous thighs. Somehow, they managed to squeeze into them anyway. “God _ damn _ , kid,” she cackled. “You got fuckin’ pencil legs, ain’tcha?”

The Kid glanced down, past his spent dick. They were  _ his _ pants, which meant -- all of that was so she could get something to cover up. Which also meant the psycho amazon had every intention of making him spend the rest of their trek towards civilization naked. His junk did not need to be aired out quite that badly. Finally benefitting from post-nut clarity, he took decisive action and jerked forward, reaching out to grab at her. “I need those more than you do, you--  _ mierda _ , give me my fucking pants back!”

Savvy danced and hopped away, grinning like the wild woman she was. “Nah, kid, I ain’t gonna deal with you wanting to stick ‘your dick in my ass’ for the next… however fuckin’ long we’re together,” she told him, both hands still on the waist of his pants -- hers now. It was certain that they weren’t going to fit him again, not after her thighs stretched them out. She hopped in place, trying to get the waistband to go over her thick ass.

The Kid didn’t give a shit that the pants weren’t going to fit him anymore. They were  _ his _ and that was that. He glared at her, clenching his fists, then lunged forward again with a wordless shout and more machismo than common sense. This time Savvy just leaned back from his grab, not even bothering to let go of the waistband. As her back dipped, her foot shot out at the Kid’s ankle, tripping him and sending him naked to the dirt. 

“Now chill the fuck out for a second,” she laughed again, taking a step back and resuming her bouncing to try and fit the pants to her amazonian body. “If you behave, might just be that I’ll suck yer pecker again to make it up to you.” If the Kid had it in him to glance up, he would have been treated to a wonderful show, all bouncing tits and feminine grunting as Savvy struggled against the ineffable laws of physics. 

Alas, he did not. He was sputtering dirt and feeling humiliated, angry. The only thing that made him lift his head when he did was the sudden  **SNAP** he heard. Between Savvy’s ass and his pants, something eventually had to give -- and that something was ultimately his pants, unable to tame the Lone Ranger’s behemoth bottom. “Aw, fuckin’ goddamn,” she bitched as the elastic in the waistband finally snapped and her rough pulling tore the seams wide open. “These ain’t gonna be no use to anyone. You were wearin’ some shitty fuckin’ pants, kid.”

That made the Kid snap. “You’re such a fucking bitch,” he seethed at her as he picked himself off the ground. Savvy only made things worse by ignoring him, still tugging at the ruined legwear with every intention of jury-rigging it into giving her some semblance of modesty. He saw his one chance. Savannah was stronger, faster and almost twice his diminutive size… but if she underestimated him, he had a chance. 

He scrambled up from his hands and knees, then lunged forward with another yell, launching the full weight of his body into a spear-like tackle. The sudden impact took Savvy wholly by surprise, making her yelp out as the Kid took her off her feet and straight to the ground. “You goddamn little brat--” she began to shout at him, but he was already lifting his small fists to pummel her. The first one took her right in the tit, right in the nipple, and made her gasp out loudly, her eyes widening. 

The Kid could feel her tense up and grow stiff beneath him almost immediately, her back arching upward, her hips raising. It was immensely satisfying after all of her needling. “Fucking  _ perra _ tits-for-brains!” That was  _ more _ satisfying. Yelling his frustration and knowing he had found her weak spot, he lifted his fist and hit her again in the exact same place.

He expected the same feedback, but the punch clearly hurt him more than it hurt her. Savvy didn’t grunt or even react, whereas his poor little knuckle bones cleanly felt her firm muscles and tough bones beneath her fat tit. The Kid’s anger cooled suddenly. Something was off. Really, really off. “... Hey,” he said more quietly. “Tits-for-brains?” Nothing. He gave her tit a slap through her clothes. Though it moved, the rest of her didn’t. “Savvy?” Nada. Dread began to rise in his stomach.

Had he just killed her? He leaned up and crawled over her body, ignoring how his cock and balls dragged over her warm skin. “Savannah?” he asked more quietly, certain he would see death in her eyes. He quickly jerked back in surprise. They were still wide open, darting from side to side in a wild panic. Hope quickly replaced the dread he felt. “Oh, thank fuck,” the Kid said with open relief. He hadn’t killed her, just paralyzed her with his punch… which was probably worse.

For a few seconds, the Kid stared at Savvy’s face helplessly, her expression now forever locked into the surprise she felt when he took her to the dirt. Then he heard a squeak. Not her, but something smaller. A… mouse? He glanced to its source, one of her shoulders.

A ratrantula squirmed out from under it, then scurried off, hurrying away from the humans. “Oh, thank fuck,” the Kid repeated, laughing this time. It wasn’t his punch at all that did this to Savvy, or his tackle… technically speaking. He watched the twelve-legged creature as it became smaller and smaller, until it was too far for him to follow with his eyes. “It was just a ratrantula. You got stung, but you’ll be fine,” he promised Savvy, sitting back on her muscular stomach and resting his hands on the pillows of her tits.

The Kid only saw confusion in the amazonian ranger’s eyes. He ran his tongue over his teeth, considering before speaking again. “I don’t know about up here, but they’re pretty common in Old-Old Mexico,” he explained, squeezing her tits casually, drinking in the way that made her eyelids flutter. Things were looking up for him.

They were a constant threat and something the Kid was always vigilant about back home. Though their poisonous tail and bites couldn’t kill, they did paralyze anyone unlucky enough to taste their venom, rendering them helpless for a few hours, depending on how quickly it left their system. The danger was always in what might happen to a person in that time, especially if they were alone. 

He remembered old stories back home about ratrantulas once simply being ‘tarantulas’ and some superstitious nonsense about ratrantulas simply being rats taken over by tarantulas that mutated into parasites. The Kid didn’t believe any of it, and he wasn’t about to relay the story to Savvy -- nor what he knew to be the truth. At least, not all of it. Things were, after all, looking up for him.

The Kid finally had control.    
  
“So,” he said as he pushed Savvy’s flannel shirt wide open, then went to unleash her massive mammaries from the strange bra once again. Her nipples were stiff, needy for attention. The one he punched was even leaking again. Grinning to himself, the Kid decided to put off his explanation, dipping down to latch on and suck up some more of that delicious nectar. Once it was a mere trickle again, he lifted his head. “The best way for us to deal with this is to fuck it out of you,” he told Savvy flatly, his tone brooking no argument or discussion. 

Not that she really could. Her eyes widened, incredulous, then narrowed.

“Swear on my  _ abuela _ ’s grave, that’s how we deal with it back home,” the Kid attested. His mother’s mother, the one he never met. The one who couldn’t be assed to rise from the dead and free him from the cartel’s cacti farm. It was a bit of petty revenge.  _ And a completely white lie, _ the Kid told himself. Savvy closed her eyes for a moment, then blinked a few times. 

The Kid blinked back a few times more. “I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me,” he told the paralyzed blonde after a time, before patting both of her tits reassuringly. The way he went on to twist her nipples was probably less than reassuring, but that was more for his sake than hers. “Just relax and I’ll have you out of this before you know what hit you,” he assured her, shifting out of his straddle and off of her. “I just gotta get us all set up--”

“Huh.” When people were stung by a ratrantula, they tended to go completely stiff with their body as straight as a board. Perhaps because of the tackle, Savvy’s legs were lifted and bent, boots planted to the ground near the cheeks of her thick ass. The Kid once again had a perfect view of her vulnerable pussy and asshole, the former flushed dark red and swollen with arousal and sheening with far more feminine wetness than sweat. It almost always was, but the Kid still took it to mean she was okay with his plan. Either way, it was the perfect position for his purposes.

He got between her legs, hooking his arms under them and pressing them back. Though the muscles were stiff and fought him, he was still able to push them back until her boots were pointed towards the blazing sun. The Kid slid his hands down, holding her thighs down to keep Savvy pinned the way he wanted her. The last time he fucked a girl like this, in the so-called mating press, he looked her in the eye the whole time except for when they kissed, convinced that they were in love.

Savvy and the Kid were anything but in love, and she was way too fucking big for him to comfortably manage pinning her, fucking her, and staying face-to-face. So the Kid went for the next best alternative, leaning down to lock his lips around her nipple instead, biting down on it softly before beginning to suck on it. The blonde beneath him gave the softest hint of a whimper. He should have noticed from that alone that she wasn’t quite as paralyzed as she should have been, but he was far too focused on his prize.

Not about to release her pinned legs, he went in blind as he pumped his hips, sure that his cock was going to find the tight, sweet hole of her pussy like a magnet. Each of his first few thrusts glided up along her slippery cunt without penetrating it, only serving to tease her and irritate him. He adjusted his angle and pushed forward again, but his cock only slid down along the curve of her ass. “You’re too fucking wet,” he grumbled, briefly unlatching. It wasn’t like she could argue against him deflecting the blame in her predicament. “Come  _ on _ , woman.” He got back down on the horny little peaks of her mountainous tits. 

Meanwhile, Savvy glared up at the sky, wishing the Kid wasn’t on her tit for no other reason than to tell him ‘fuck off’. 

Everyone told her that it was a waste of time to learn morse code, that nobody would use it in their day and age, but here she was with the perfect opportunity to use it, shit out of luck. The Kid deserved nothing if not an empathetic ‘go fuck yourselves’ -- but being realistic, he probably didn’t know morse code either. She’d find a use one day. In her opinion, someone  _ desperately  _ needed to tell the Kid to use his tongue while he was sucking on a nipple.

Not that she could complain. At least he was treating her paralysis; while she didn’t want to let such a runt fuck her, it was far better than just laying there and waiting for her body to recover on its own. And as far as medicine went, it wouldn’t be the most bitter pill she had ever taken, not by a longshot. She just wished she could move her hand, to reach down and actually position the dumb little fucker’s dumb little impressive pecker to--

Another soft whimper worked its way out of Savvy’s throat as the Kid finally managed to align his cock with her cunt. Wetter than the ancient Slick ‘n Slide relic that the neighbors would break out on festival days, he practically fell into the ranger’s perfect cunt. Or perhaps it was more apt to say it sucked him in. For how stiff the rest of Savvy’s body was, her kegel muscles were hyperactive in comparison, relaxing on instinct to let him sink balls-deep into her before clenching insanely tight, her cunt wetter than wet and warmer than warm.

“Oh,  _ mierda, _ ” the Kid whispered around her nipple. He had been likening her legs and ass to the Pearly Gates before and her holes as heaven, and it was an apt comparison. It was far better than any other pussy he had been lucky enough to hit. Savvy’s cunt squeezed and relaxed around him rhythmically. The Kid was sure if he hadn’t already cummed on her belly from her hand job, he’d blow his load in a second without even needing to thrust. 

That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to make sure she’d never besmirch the good name of his cock ever again. Gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw, he drew back against her pussy’s resistance until he was all but out of her, then pounded down into her cunt, his balls slapping against her ass as he hilted inside of her again. It had to be the best pussy in Old-Old Mexico and the Land of the Free combined. He pulled back again. Now that he knew what he was up against, he was sure he could last.

From there, the Kid pumped away into her pillowy pussy, focused entirely on winning the fight that Savvy didn’t know they were having. There was no way he would let himself cum without making sure her pussy remembered just how large his cock was; not a pecker, but a ‘right proper gun’, a rifle, like she called it the first time she sucked him off. As the trickle of milk slowed from her tit, he switched to her other nipple. The whimpers and grunts he drove from her with each thrust were music to his ears.

As he listened to them, he recognized how they changed, how they got lower and almost more lewd. So too did he recognize the way she squeezed around him, increasingly spastic, working towards what would be sure to be a glorious crescendo and a hard orgasm. He didn’t need to leave her nipple and look at her face to know how tightly shut her eyes were. As satisfying as it would be to make her cum on his cock, that would be too soon for him.

The Kid decided to switch things up, pulling back, loathe to leave her cunt. It was just as loathe to let him go, hugging it tighter and tighter, clinging right up until it popped out of her. He ignored the sharp little frustrated gasp Savvy took in and shifted. This time, he aligned with his target immediately, and his first thrust was true -- but her asshole put up far more resistance than he expected. The tight little hole made him fight for every inch of ground he took from it, making him grunt and hiss.

It made Savvy grunt and hiss too, if in an entirely different way. Had the Kid just asked to fuck her pussy, she probably would have let him. His cock was great considering his size, she just enjoyed busting his balls. The real reason she didn’t want to let him put his cock in her ass was far more simple than it being too small or needing a proper ‘assbreaker’. Savvy was an anal virgin, just like the Kid. It was the one hole she was saving for her eventual special someone.

Getting her unprepared sphincter stretched out was far more painful than the first time she had a cock in her pussy. Edged as she was on the cusp of her orgasm, that pain perversely paired with pleasure. It hurt good, good enough that she egged the Kid on all throughout in her mind, demanding more and more of his cock for her previously virgin asshole. 

Neither of them noticed that she started to whisper it. It was too soft for his ears, and her mind was entirely latched on to what was about to happen to her. “Come on, kid, just like -- just like -- yeah, kiddo,  _ fuuuck _ …”

The Kid finally managed to bury himself in her, relishing in how the tight ring of muscle tried to choke his dick just like her pussy had. Even if she complained about this later, he would know that her body was more than fine with it. As he began truly fuck the hole, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last inside of her, not for long. His focus was finally beginning to lose out against her, helpless against the squeeze of her heavenly ass. If he hadn’t fucked her cunt first, there was no way he’d be able to squeeze into it.

Inspired to leave a more lasting mark on her, he released her nipple and caught part of her tit with his teeth, biting down roughly before beginning to suck on it roughly. Focused on giving her a titty hickey, the Kid didn’t notice her legs begin to push back against him weakly, more and more of her body beginning to become hers again. Not that the fucking had anything to do with it; her body would have won out of the poison whether or not he gaslighted her. His sucking and biting only got harder the moment his cock decided to fire its second load, spilling all that cum right down the dark passage.

Feeling that warm, wet splash in her ass was the push Savvy needed to have her own orgasm. She groaned out, lewd and wanton, her legs beginning to tremble and shake, each passing moment returning more and more of her strength. The moment finally came, and she came powerfully with it, crying out rawly as her cunt spasmed, terribly jealous of her cock-filled ass. As it tantrumed, she squirted all over the Kid’s torso, almost improbably considering just how wet she always was.

“Fuck,” the Kid moaned, feeling his bones sag. He slowly released her legs, simply feeling unable to hold them back any longer, feeling frankly stupefied. 

“Yeah,” Savvy whispered, left in a similar state, her quivering legs instinctively closing around his back, her ankles crossing and pulling him in close. Ass or not, she wanted to feel him go soft inside her.

The Kid half-squirmed his way up higher on her body, as tempting as it would be for him to rest his head on her titties. There was something else he wanted to do with her first. When they were finally eye-to-eye, his brown eyes on her glazed-over green ones, he leaned down to kiss her, their eyelids both drifting shut.

Before their lips met, they heard a familiar squawk, all rage, followed by a proud cockadoodledoo. They both froze, and slowly the Kid lifted his head and looking over his shoulder. The brushcock had just crested the hill and was now staring towards them, preparing to charge.

“Oh, fucking  _ mierda, _ ” the exhausted Kid whispered, both his and Savvy’s afterglows cut short.

**Author's Note:**

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